Coping Mechanisms
by smeltlikesafety
Summary: It was always Reno to be so... unbreakable. And yet, right now, Rude was lying next to a redhead that had twin markings on his cheeks, with a ponytail trailing down his back, that was very clearly broken.


**AN: Prompt for this fic is to write a story according to the lyrics:**

"**Let me take you down 'cause I'm going to Strawberry fields"**

**-The Beatles, Strawberry Fields Forever**

**I have absolutely no idea what this song is about, by the way. xD But somehow I figured this would be something Reno would say to Rude. I'll leave the interpretation at the end, if anyone's actually interested.**

**I also realize I write a lot of Crying!Reno.**

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><p>"Enough," Rude says, grabbing for the bottle in his partner's hand.<p>

"Shaddup, get off my back," The redhead slurs, swinging around dangerously to put his bottle out of Rude's reach. He snarls briefly, his lips pulling back over his teeth, and somewhere in his alcohol-induced haze, he wonders if he should attempt to bite Rude. "I do whatever I want, asshole, so just shaddup and drink. You're too damn serious all the time."

Rude just stared back at Reno, from his seat on the couch in their apartment, watching the redhead take another swig from the bottle, tipping it back all the way, such that Rude knew it was now empty.

That was the fourth bottle in the past hour.

"You're going to get alcohol poisoning if you don't stop," Rude says evenly, trying to inch towards Reno. Slowly, of course. He pauses, before adding, "You know what happened today is part of the job."

Reno snorts obscenely, and his only other response is to fling the empty beer bottle at Rude, before picking an unopened one up from the floor.

Rude effortlessly dodged the bottle, grimacing as it shattered against the wall behind him. Great, more cleanup to do once Reno's properly out.

Rude didn't even know why he bothered trying. Not that he thought Reno wasn't worth trying to cheer up. It's just that he already knew the redhead wouldn't believe him, already knew that whatever he said would be snorted, scoffed, or sneered at.

Most of the time, all three happened simultaneously.

"Fucking nuts," Reno mumbled to himself, and Rude realizes he doesn't actually know what Reno's referring to anymore. Although he was probably referring to Rude.

Rude exhaled silently through his nose. They had offed a lot of people before, but Reno never seemed to get over it. Every single time they were sent out to kill someone, Reno came back home and did this.

Every single time.

Rude used to do it with Reno, the first few dozen times. But then somewhere along the line, he realized he didn't quite notice it anymore. After pulling the trigger, he'd shove the gun back into its holster, wipe the gunpowder off of his gloves, before going home to watch television.

Not that he was a heartless bastard, no. Rude just stopped feeling after a while. Pulling the trigger seemed like pressing the button to the lift, after the few dozen times. It just seemed… routine.

After a while, you stopped noticing the blood on your hands.

Rude sighed, standing up and approaching the redhead slowly, just as Reno popped the cap on his fifth bottle and toasted to an imaginary drinking partner in front of him. The redhead was splayed out on the armchair next to the couch Rude previously sat on, his legs dangling over one arm, his back leaning against the other.

Rude maintained eye contact with the redhead, before realizing that Reno couldn't see his eyes because of the shades he wore. Rude reached up and took off his shades, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he inspected Reno's drunken form intently. Rude raised both hands in a surrendering gesture, and leant down to grip Reno's bottle firmly with his right hand. "Let go, partner. It's enough for one night."

It was a lucky gesture to take off his shades, because in the next moment, Reno's fist collided with Rude's jaw, earning a startled grunt. If Rude had left them on, goodness knew what the fate of both the shades and Rude's face would be. Rude didn't miss a beat, driving his knee into Reno's gut as he did his best to ignore his aching chin.

Reno yelped, scrabbling wildly at Rude's back in a drunken attempt to claw at him, only managing to drop the bottle on Rude's head. He then squirmed to get his leg under Rude's body, planning to kick out as hard as he could, except that Rude had predicted that that was what his partner was going to do, and grabbed Reno's middle before he was thrown off, hoisting him off the armchair entirely.

Rude had always been the stronger among the two - that was partially why they had been partnered. Rude would take care of the tasks that required strength, and Reno would take care of whatever required speed. They had different fighting styles, different weapons, and drastically different personalities, but they fit together like a hand in a glove, and were a tough force to reckon with when they were together.

Rude still remembered the day that Tseng had decided that the two of them were to be partners. Rude inspected Reno, looking him up and down, distinctly thinking that this guy with the crazy hair and lazy aura could only mean trouble. He did so only to meet Reno's eye and watch him sneer, before flipping the bird at him. Rude grimaced. It looked like joining the Turks was going to be a long, long journey.

Rude was to find out some time later that really, Tseng had been right.

The two of them really were meant to be partners.

Right now, however, they were clearly not fighting on the same side. Reno didn't seem very happy at being forced to part with his lovely armchair and beer bottle. He snarled again, a low growl escaping his throat, as his lips pulled back to expose his teeth, and Rude caught the strong unmistakable whiff of very strong alcohol.

This time, his nails really made it to Rude's back as he clawed and scratched for all he was worth. "Give me back my alcohol, Rude you sonafabitch," Reno started, as Rude landed a punch in the general area of Reno's face, and Reno reacted by kicking whichever part of Rude he could reach.

That part just so happened to be Rude's knee, which stung excruciatingly and buckled, bringing both Reno and Rude crashing onto the coffee table, effectively splintering it into half. Immediately afterward, the duo lay there unmovingly for a moment, Reno being crushed unceremoniously by Rude's weight.

Silence is golden. But often, silence is also short-lived. True enough, Reno was back to sprouting obscene profanities in moments, blabbering on and on about how he was going to kill Rude, and Rude you bastard where is my drink, and I can do what I want so fuck off, Rude. Reno then seemed to have an afterthought, and roughly pushed Rude off of him, causing him to land painfully next to the redhead with a sickening _thump._

"It really fuckin' sucks."

Rude rolled over slightly such that he now lay on his back, too drained to actually sit up and find out what part of the table he was lying on. He tilted his head slightly and looked to Reno, who sported a bloody nose and a bruised forearm, from what Rude could currently see. Underneath the fabric, there was probably even more, if Rude looked. Reno's voice sounded oddly soft, not quite bitter, in a tone Rude couldn't quite place.

_Maybe Reno was broken._

Rude blinked at his sudden thought, staring at his partner as Reno remembered his goal of drinking himself to the death, and looked blearily around for the forgotten bottle. Being a Turk wasn't easy, that much Rude knew, but Reno had always looked so carefree. It was always Reno with the grin, always Reno being the one to rush to Elena when she cried, always Reno hugging Rude after a mission, always Reno that you woke up to in the Shinra hospital when you finally recovered from the hospital sedative after a particularly rough battle, only to see him with a bouquet of flowers and a fruit basket and a giant shit-eating grin.

It was always Reno that helped Tseng with the coffee machine, always Reno to believe that there would be a cure for Rufus' geostigma, always Reno to be the one to grab his bosses and twirl them in the rain, laughing and shouting.

It was always Reno to be so... _unbreakable._

And yet, right now, Rude was lying next to a redhead that had twin markings on his cheeks, with a ponytail trailing down his back, that was very clearly broken.

Maybe it's true that drunken speech speaks sober minds.

_Maybe Reno was really more broken than he looked._

Rude pondered upon this prospect, pondered upon how long, and since when, Reno had been like that. He wondered how deep the cracks ran. Rude pulled himself up painfully, slumped himself against the couch. He opened his mouth, but was met with a quick-

"Shaddap, fuck off," Reno snapped, crawling through the broken wood to retrieve his bottle. And although Reno was still in a foul mood, he still made the extra effort, moved the extra inches to shift himself beside to his partner, before he propped himself up painfully against the leg of the couch.

There was a long lapse of silence after that.

"It's not easy," Reno suddenly mumbled, almost incoherently, tilting his head back and letting the liquid burn its way down his throat. He then lifted a hand, curling all but his forefinger and middle finger into his fist, mimicking a gun. His hand shook slightly, but when he cocked the gun and angled it upwards abruptly, Rude got the message. Reno then fell silent suddenly, his head bowed, his legs extended carelessly in front of him. Reno then swallowed, blinked, and sniffed.

Rude wasn't sure if it was the result of tears at having offed a kid that day, or the blood that still trickled out of his nose.

Rude looked at his partner long and hard, even if he was starting to feel the beginnings of a bruise over his left eye, that gentle throbbing of pain in the muscle tissue that told him that tomorrow, he wouldn't be able to see out of that same eye. But Rude didn't care. He looked over to his partner, slumped against the couch bonelessly, sitting in a haphazard heap of broken glass and splintered wood in his creased suit. He noticed how Reno's face, in the absence of a sneer, a frown, a grin, actually looked serene and… meek. He watched the gentle rising and falling of Reno's chest, the only indication that he was still alive and breathing. He watched those impossibly green eyes glaze over, and for once, he wasn't sure if it was the effects of the alcohol.

Reno definitely looked broken.

Rude leant over gently, the muscles in his torso and arms and just generally _everywhere_ screaming in protest. He reached out with his fingers, as Reno's breath tickles the side of his face, and he feels them reach around the bottle, and is only half surprised when he manages to pull it out of his partner's slack fingers.

"I know, partner," Rude replied, leaning his head back on the couch and staring unseeingly at the ceiling. "I know."

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><p><strong>AN: I interpreted Strawberry Fields as either hell, or oblivion. Maybe a little of both. I imagine that sometimes, Reno sees himself on the way to both these places.<strong>


End file.
